AFFAIRS OF THE HART – BEWITCHED BY A DOLPHIN
Harty analyses the mystical attraction of Fungie the Dingle dolphin.
“So, Annabelle (name changed to protect the guilty), what do you most want to get out of this week, here on the Dingle Peninsula in SW Ireland with its stunning beaches and amazing breadth of conditions, where sailors the world over come to learn and hone their jumping, riding and general windsurfing? What is top of your wish list Annabelle?” “I really want to see the dolphin.” It’s a reply I’m now used to when running clinics in Kerry.
For those unfamiliar with the phenomenon (and I’m surprised if you are because he’s become a global watery legend on a par with Robby Naish) ‘Fungie’ is a bottle nosed dolphin, who for the last 30 years, has colonised Dingle harbour on the south side of the peninsula. He has been neither trained nor tamed; nor is is he lured in by the promise of food. But for some reason he seeks out human company to the extent where a small industry has grown up around his ever presence. He is a wonderful quirk of Nature.
I met Fungie on my second trip to the area in 1984. A well-oiled and scarcely credible local told me that the Dingle harbour lighthouse keeper had witnessed a solitary dolphin escort the fishing boats in and out of the harbour.
With little else to do the next day, I drove over the Connor Pass from Brandon Bay, dropped into Dingle and sure enough with 5 minutes of parking saw a dolphin-like sea creature playing in the wake of a boat as it chugged towards its mooring.
There was no wind and this being well before the era of SUPs, I had no means of getting up close and personal. For a while I watched from the shore and that was that. I don’t want to appear blasé but I’d surfed with dolphins in Oz just 6 months previously; so, sweet though the yet-to-be-named Fungie appeared to be, I didn’t mark it down as a life changing experience. But it takes a long time to become a legend …
Fast forward 10 years and I was back in Kerry running clinics. There’d been no wind or swell for 2 days. In a desperate search for action, I led the convoy 25 miles over to the beach of Inch where a light northerly wind combined with sun can produce a howling katabatic wind … but not today. Arms were folded in defiance as the team stared grim-faced at the mirror sea, inwardly delighted to have someone to blame.
“I know …” I said scraping the barrel for options, “ …lets go and have fish and chips in Dingle and perhaps play with the dolphin?”
I hadn’t really thought this through. As we arrived at the little beach at the entrance to the harbour, the sun was setting and the tide was whooshing out – and I hadn’t seen this dolphin for a decade – nor did I know where he hung out.
“What do we do now?”, enquired the sceptical group’s spokesman. “Just leave this to me.” I said climbing into my wetsuit and grabbing my surfboard. “I’ll just go and get him.” I paddled out, sat astride my board and viewed the massive expanse of the harbour in the dimming light; and then as I slapped the water and cried ‘Fungie’ as enthusiastically and confidently as possible, I have never felt more ridiculous. But as the group looked on with ever increasing incredulity, the water gurgled and from the inky depths shot Fungie. I fear the story may have grown with the telling but I swear he jumped clean over me. Within in a minute I was joined by 5 others, my reputation, if not repaired, then definitely on the mend. He stayed with us for perhaps 10 minutes before seeking more lively entertainment. But that was enough, we’d all been well and truly ‘Fungied.’
I now make a point of visiting Fungie every year and in the 18 years I’ve been doing clinics there, I’ve never not seen him. I always pray for a light wind sunny day that gives us the excuse for a visit. From a purely windsurfy point of view, the harbour is a great place to sail. Thanks to the network of surrounding hills and valleys, it often gets wind when nowhere else does. But in truth we’re there to bother the dolphin.
Some of the encounters have been beyond magical. On one occasion we were hanging around in the bay beside the channel keen not to get in the way of the tour boats. Fungie seems to be a bit of a petrol head usually choosing to follow the engines. But on this evening he peeled off and decided we looked more interesting to the point where he wouldn’t leave us until he’d knocked every one of us in – either by powering underneath and smacking up the dagger board or leaping right up behind us so his bottled snout was right by your ear. I have never witnessed such genuinely hysterical and explosive laughter. If you could have bottled the atmosphere that night and turned it into a tonic, you would be a rich man.
He was there with us again only last month – a little less acrobatic but still eternally curious.
The future looks … short …
The saddest fact is that the legend that is Fungie can not live forever. He was fully grown in 1983, which means he’s around 40 years old. Atlantic bottle nosed dolphins can live to 50 but a more normal age in the wild is 25.
There are 12 full time jobs that depend on him remaining alive. The skipper of one of the tour boats, Jimmy Flannery, has been taking visitors out to see him since 1987- that’s been his only job. He says the passing of Fungie is a bridge he’ll cross when he comes to it. Such commercial pressure has led many to suspect that the dolphin has been replaced many times. But Fungie is unique. He has a nick out of his tail sustained from a propeller some years ago. It’s also ludicrous to replace him with some random dolphin and expect him to stay there. As to why he stays in the harbour and communes with us daily in the way that he does … well no one really has the answer. You suspect in the dolphin world he may be a bit weird. Experts say he does commune with other dolphins outside the harbour and that he had a girlfriend who died there which is why he stayed in the area.
If I may end on an uncomfortably touch-feely note, I do feel that sometimes us windsurfers take the environment for granted – and that for us it’s not an environment but just some liquid to carve tricks on.
A day out with Fungie makes us all realise that what we use as a playground is the home of some extraordinary creatures – and one of the most extraordinary is still alive and well and living in Dingle.
PH 1st June 2015